A Sigh In The Breeze
by neoneco
Summary: He's never been alone, not really. Jack Frost has always had a Guardian.
1. Rebirth

**So, erm, yeah. This happened. Also it is embarrassingly short. Oh well. This is neoneco, brought to you live from The Kitchen Table.**

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She's there when he's born. Or reborn. She isn't picky.

He's small, and fragile, and alone, scared, but so, so alone. She doesn't like that. She wants him to be happy. She doesn't know what this is, but it's not happy, and it's not angry, and not knowing is making her angry, _not at her frost child, never at him._

It's not in her nature to dislike things. She knows this too, and it makes her angrier.

She finds that when he frowns, he looks like the leaf child, the one that one of her siblings helps all autumn tug down leaves. The one who scowled if she tried to play, saying she was too rough, or too cold, or too biting.

_Nipping_, she insists. She thinks it's a charming word, and isn't quite sure why.

She likes it when he smiles. He looks like himself when he smiles. And that was good, she didn't want to play with the leaf  
child anyway _was never allowed, always chased away_ and she would much rather have her own playmate than borrow her siblings'.

The first time he's in her hands, she knows. Before, she only suspected, but now she _knows_.

This was _her_ frost child. He was for her. He was _her_ playmate, and they were going to play, and play, and play.

She doesn't have a name. She's nameless.

She can't find it in herself to complain, however, when her playmate had such a silly name as Jack Frost.


	2. Gravity

**Here you go, guys. This is neoneco, live from the Kitchen Table.**

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When he wakes for the first time,_ and the last time_, she can't bear not to touch him. She tousles his hair, she coos in his ears, she does everything she's ever wanted to done with a child, everything she's ever done with a child because he_ is_ a child, he's her child, and thank goodness, _thank goodness_, he's finally here.

He has a bit of hair that stands up, that defies gravity, and she likes that, because what better for a frost child, a snowflake to do, than to defy gravity?

And she swears to never let that hair, those strands, fall into his face, and be pulled to the ground, bound and caged by the confines of the warm, _too warm, it's always too warm_, dirt like so many other snowflakes. He belongs in the sky, she decides.

She tosses him in the air, throwing him hand to hand, _and my, what large hands she has, or is he just small?_, and he is happy. She thinks he is happy, and if he's not angry, then he's happy, right?

She only has ever been happy and angry, and he doesn't seem to be angry, so she laughs, her voice the soft, content noise, rather than the raring whooshes that is so often felt in this weather,_ this cool, nipping weather that has never felt so right until right now..._


	3. His Children

**Okay guys, new chapter. Brought to you by neoneco, live at the... Computer... Desk... I gotta work on that. Roll camera!**

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Sometimes the children hurt Jack and the wound is so deep, even she can feel it.

He's never hurt physically, never, she wouldn't allow it._ And wouldn't he need a body to be hurt?_

Seeing him hurt makes her angry, and she wants to make _them_ hurt, wants to yank on their hair, snatch things from their hands, tease animals with their scent, _make them hurt_, but she doesn't.

He loves them. They're his children as much as he is hers and she doesn't want him to be unhappy with her.

She pulls him away, into the sky, for another game, another catch and toss, another race, so her anger will fade and when she next sees the children, _she knows she will,_ _he isn't going to stay away, he never does_, she hopes she'll be able to resist uprooting the trees and whacking them on the children's heads.

So she watches, with a terrible fascination, something she associates with happiness, but isn't, and flutters about, near him, when he asks to be set down again. _Please don't, the ground is no place for him. Frost children should be in the sky. _

His face falls when another of his children, _they can never be his children, really,_ runs straight through him, again, and the child shivers, like she has feels her grave being danced on.

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Some years later, she finds a grave.

She dances on it.

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**I, um... I messed up. I thought Jack's age was 14 in the movie. Turns out it's 17. Whoops. Looks like there's going to be book and movie meshing. Sorry guys. It's not going to be too much, you won't need to read the books or use Google to figure out what the hell I'm writing. **

**Oh well. He is also going to be acting weirdly childish. Keep in mind, however, that this is the point of view who primarily views Jack as a _child._**

**Have a wonderful day. ^.^**


	4. Possessions

**You guys. Seriously. Seriously. I love you guys. Also, we've hit the 1000 word mark! Yaay! Oh well. This is neoneco, live from a Comfy Chair.**

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He has nothing. No possessions. Nothing to call his own but his name.

The staff he has doesn't count, she reasons. That isn't the sort of thing one can own. It's like owning your left hand, a part of your body. You own it exactly as much as you own yourself.

She wants him to have something. Something to make him less... faded. So he'll have a reason to smile. He doesn't fade when he smiles.

She wants him to have something. But she's not a maker. She's a disruptor. She shakes things apart, she doesn't put them together. She doesn't know how.

So while she's..._ irritated_ when he gets a new cloak, _They should be playing! And what is he doing in a cabin? He should be in the sky! ,_ one with shinier buttons, and brighter fabric, she can't really be mad. Because this is something new, something his, and he loves it.

He loves it. And she loves him.

Because while he's never had anything but his name, she's never had anything but him.

And if she has him, she doesn't need a name.

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**My day is seriously better with reviews. Anything. Write literally anything. Write the ABC's. Tell a thrilling tale about how you tried to recite them backwards six times in one breath. That would be ****_awesome._**** Have a nice day, guys. **


	5. Emotions

**Well, new chapter. (Have you seen the pattern of updating yet? I've never had a schedule before! It's good for my procrastination!) This is neoneco, life from the Comfy Chair.**

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She asks her mother one day what it is.

What the feeling in her chest, _was it her chest? does she have one? where? _, is.

Her mother giggles, cackles at the same time, and asks how is she supposed to know what the mystery feeling is if it isn't described to her?

She doesn't quite know how to answer.

She looks down at Jack, where she's left him on the ground, frosting the trees, in favor of speaking with her mother. Their conversation feels quite useless now.

"What does it feel like?" her mother insists.

Tired. It makes her feel tired. It's when she's done being angry, she can't be angry anymore, except she isn't happy, either. It makes her throat hurt, and her eyes heavy. It feels like it's the opposite of happiness, but it's not anger. It's... something else.

She is puzzled. And unhappy.

She's looking at Jack again. Though he is smiling, she doesn't think he's happy either.

Her mother pulls her away and smiles warmly, sneeringly, at her. In her face, she can see that same emotion, the one that's been perplexing her, in her mother's expression, and she realizes her mother's smile is warm, but it isn't, not really.

_She's scared now._ _She's frightened._ _Please stop smiling that awful smile. Please._

"It's sadness," her mother says. "Melancholy, regret, sorrow, grief," her mother pauses, "Heartache."

There is no epiphany. Her emotions do not suddenly make sense. Her mother's words have not given her what she wanted.

Except they do. Because now, now she can order her thoughts, she can come to a better understanding of what she thinks she thinks.

Her mother leaves, and she looks down towards Jack again.

_He must be very sad._


	6. The Leprechaun

**This, my friends, is what happens when my updating schedule corresponds with a holiday. Happy St. Patrick's day, please drink responsibly. Make some cabbage stew. That stuff's pretty awesome. (Also the timeline kind of, sort of, got thrown out the window, hence the stand alone chapter. You're welcome.)**

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There is a tiny, cranky, bearded man waving frantically at them as they fly. She slows down._ This looks interesting._

"Do you need your shoes mended, sprite?" He asks. Jack gives his bare feet a glance, before raising an eyebrow at the man. He squints at the little man curiously.

"But you're the Leprechaun. Fixing shoes is hardly your jurisdiction," he says.

The leprechaun bristles and sneers at her boy. "Oh no? And just who do you think fixed those damnable silly fae's shoes, hmm?"

_They had shoes? She's never seen any shoes._

"Me! I did! So don't you tell me what my job is! I know my job, thanks very much!" There is spittle coming from his mouth, his intensity sending it spraying. She waves the saliva back towards him, away from Jack. _That'll teach him to spit down wind._

She ignores the fact that from where he is standing, he isn't down wind.

As the man wipes his face from the impromptu spit shower, Jack says, "So, how did you get stuck with St. Patrick's Day if you're just a cobbler?"

"Some foolish human put an image of a jaunty young fellow into a film, called him a leprechaun, and BOOM, suddenly I have responsibilities shoved on me for a _christian_ holiday. Nevermind that I'm a_ pagan_ spirit, no, no, that doesn't matter at all, a minor techincality. I swear, some people ..." His voice doesn't wander off, it keeps going, but she is getting tired of hearing his voice, and doesn't bother to pay attention.

"Hey, buddy," Jack interrupts his tirade about the subtle differences of clovers and shamrocks. "You seem like you need a drink."

And suddenly the Leprechaun has a feral grin on his face, and she is uncomfortably reminded that, grouchy or not, this is a faerie.

Jack makes a hasty goodbye as she pulls him away.

_There is a reason leprechauns have so much gold, and it isn't because they make good stock investments._

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**Seriously though, guys. Happy St. Patrick's day. :)**


	7. Aging

**I'm sorry. This is a bit later in the day, I know. I formally apologize and cordially invite you to look at my homework pile. *Points To Pile* It is pretty large. Anyhow, here it is. This is neoneco, live from... A Cafe With Free Wifi. (Yes, those still exist. I know. It's weird.)**

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She knows he isn't happy.

It hurts, _it does, it hurts_, to know that. She doesn't want to know that.

But she does.

He is cheerful. He is carefree. When he is young, they play everyday, all day, and they don't have a care in the world.

_When they are young, they can do anything they want, and there are no such thing as consequences or 'rules'._

He isn't carefree anymore. He grows up. He's not a child.

He is a child. He plays tricks. He plays games. He acts silly and cheats at the games he plays._ Because children can never play fair if there aren't any rules. _

Except he's too old to be a child.

Too tired. Too sad, though at a depth that leaves her confused, because how can someone be both happy and sad? _Which is real?_

Thinking about it makes _her _tired, and she can't be tired, because who else will rouse him into a game and make him happy?

She tells herself this even as his heart breaks, and something in her _aches_, and one of his children walks through him, _again. _

She scoops him up and takes him home.


	8. Fear

**Hi guys, this is pretty short. Like all of them. I apologize. This is neoneco, live from the Comfy Chair.**

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The sky is the best place for him, and not just because she wants him to stay with her.

He's afraid. He's lonely and sad, and afraid. It isn't the type of afraid that comes from being startled, but the type that comes from introspection. Self evaluation. Self doubt. He doubts himself, and he's afraid.

He's afraid that he'll never have believers. He's afraid that he'll never know who he is. He's afraid he'll never know why.

_It's going to be alright, really,_ _just fly in the sky with her, she'll make it alright._

He's never afraid in the sky, because she's there and the lurking doubts, _him, in the looming dark, eyes like a predator,_ can't reach him in the sky.

She takes him into the sky as often as she can.

_The boogeyman can't get them in the sky._


	9. Alone

**I** **am a terrible person. I'm sorry this took so long. This is neoneco, live from the Comfy Chair.**

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Sometimes, she wishes that she was there when he died. She wonders how different he might be.

She knows he was alone. She knows it like she knows the sky is blue and the ground is binding. _She can feel it, it hurts. It makes her hurt._

He had a sister, who might've been there, might not've, but that doesn't matter, because when he was in the water, he was alone, in the cold, and the dark. Even now, he can't stand that kind of cold, the kind that pulls, that sucks, that _surrounds_, and so he keeps moving, he blows on his hands, he sticks them in pockets, and he _never stops moving._

Maybe if she had been there, she could've helped him. Not out of the water, of course, but at least brought him peace.

_So he wouldn't be alone. He shouldn't ever be alone._

She sighs, because she's really just hurting herself with this philosophy, and what-ifs, and throws Jack up in the air, again, lifting him away from the silly, and slightly rude, designs he's been making on a businessman's window.

He whines and pouts and she teases him mercilessly.

_And it's okay now, because they can be alone together._


	10. Familial Relations

**To make up for being horrendously late, I guess this is early? Oh well. This is neoneco, live from the comfy chair.**

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She is born when her mother was, if that makes any sense.

The very moment life is on the planet, even some time before that, so too is she.

Her father, Heaven's Eye, a mortal once calls him. It all comes down to her father.

She isn't sure if her birth even counts as a birth, as she is born several times, each when her father embraces and warms her mother. It always feels like waking for the first time, so it is the first time. _Launching into the sky for the very __**first**_** time.**

When it is too cold, and too dark, and there is no warmth at all, she doesn't stir. But when there is cold, and warmth, and dark, and light, _that's _when she can fly, and fly she does.

She and her siblings rise up and down and rush past things in the foreground, monsters, and animals, and mountains, and plants. She meets her mother, a kind, malicious, lady.

She never meets her father, not really. Sometimes he shines warmly at her, and others he burns her, as if punishingly.

But sometimes, rarely, he joins in her and Jack's game. Sometimes he brings a cheer, a brightness from the gloom that, in winter, is distressingly ever present.

Her mother is Jack's mother, her mother is everyone's mother, but even so.

She introduces her father to Jack as a grandfather. Because mother or not, Jack is her child.

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**Okay, guys? I want you to know that everytime I get an update or an automatic email from the site saying you reviewed or you're following or you've favorited, I get the inexplicable urge or giggle and clap.**

**Thanks. You're all awesome.**


	11. Possessive

**Well, this is no April Fools chapter. This is a regular chapter. I apologize. I couldn't think of anything, and I didn't really want to excessively troll you, so here you go. Also it's slightly longer than usual. Yaaay.**

**This is neoneco, coming to you live from a Comfy Couch.**

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He has a believer, once. She remembers.

She remembers that he is always in that man's house, always playing with his children, but never seen by them.

He is seen by Thaddeus, though.

She is confused, and Jack is confused, because he is an adult, and that doesn't make any sense. Adults can't see 's almost a rule. _The two of them always break rules anyways, how is this different?_

It doesn't make sense, it's impossible, except she recognizes it, the... the _aura_ that the man is giving off.  
It feels like her mother. It feels like her father. It feels like her, her siblings, like Jack and his siblings, _though she isn't sure Jack knows he has them._

_He feels like nature._

A wizard, though too raw and muted to be a trained one. _Those are all gone now._

Thaddeus lives in the area where Jack's lake is, the place where he is born, _and dies_, and she doesn't like him.

Thaddeus first sees him in a snowstorm, as he is walking back to his cabin, where his young wife and daughter are waiting. He is straining against the snow that she and Jack are playfully tossing about.

He yells. He sees Jack's shoeless, thin clothing and he shivers and starts pulling her boy to his home, asking questions like 'Where are your parents, young man?' and 'Why on earth haven't you any shoes, boy?!'

Jack is too busy marveling at the sensation of touch to do anything, much less put up resist when he is pulled into the house.

She isn't. She isn't stunned at all. She's angry. _That's her charge, don't touch him!_

She pushes them. She pulls him away. She does anything, everything she can to get him off of Jack,_ get him away, just get away, please._

She can't move them. Maybe it's magic, something he hasn't even been trained in, _and doesn't that just sting, being beaten by a child who's not even trained,_ but she can't separate the two of them. Thaddeus' grip is like a vice.

Jack is dazed for only a while. She's relieved to see that, once he's inside the cabin,_ he doesn't belong there, get out, get out,_ his eyes widen and his staff is raised defensively.

Thaddeus' own eyes widen; he is less pleased than her to see that. She feels a mean satisfaction and wonders if this is the feeling the Boogeyman gets when he scares people. She feels a brief drip of sympathy for him.

Thaddeus talks Jack's staff down, he soothes his fears, and when he lays a hand on Jack's shoulder, to comfort HER frost child, he can_ touch_ him.

_She's_ only ever been able to do that. _She doesn't want to share it._


	12. Playing Favorites

**I noticed that I never once disclaimed ROTG in this story. Does this mean I am William Joyce?**

**No, it means I am lazy. Sorry. I don't own ROTG, or ****The Guardians of Childhood****. This is neoneco, live from a Squishy Couch.**

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She knows Jack before he is hers. Before he is a frost child.

She knows many children, and adults, in the way she knows Jack before he falls in the lake. _She's sorry, she's sorry, she'll never leave him alone again, she's sorry._

He is the kind of person she likes. The kind that encourages others to go outside, to play. The kind that instigates games, and silliness, and fun. The kind that never grows up, _she feels, even then, that this is important,_ _that he never grows up,_ even as they get taller and gain more responsibilities.

She likes him, and so, he is one of the children that never gets things snatched up, never gets pushed, and never gets hurt playing outside.

Until, that is, he and his sister decide to go skating in the lake near their village...


	13. Parental Substitues

**For a moment, just now, I thought I had deleted this, and that moment was filled with pure, undiluted panic.**

**This is neoneco, live from a Squishy Couch. (It's no longer comfortable.)**

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She isn't a parent to him. She isn't his mother.

She knows this, he knows this.

Her father may be his grandfather, and her mother may be his mother, but they are only those things in name. Her mother dotes on him, smiles at him, but not any more so than her other children. Her father briefly plays with them, but it is a bittersweet game, because when he comes, and he stays, the snow melts and it's time for them to go.

They can't always pay attention to her and Jack. They'll always be distant.

She can,_ and she does, and she always will_, but she is not a parent.

Thaddeus is a parent. He's not _Jack's _parent, but he is _a_ parent, and when he pays Jack attention, it almost feels like he's... Well. Like he's Jack's father._ And at least that's a role that no one else can fill._

She doesn't like this. She doesn't like this at all, but _it makes him happy_.

She gets the feeling that a lot of the things she doesn't like are going to be put up with because they make Jack happy.

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**God dammit, I fixed one mistake only to be hit in the face by another. Thank you for your input though! ^_^ **


	14. Dependence

**Welp. Here you go. This is neoneco, live from a Squishy Couch.**

She doesn't want him to be encouraged to walk on the ground. She doesn't want him to get used to not wanting her, _not needing her_, and so whenever he is presented with shoes, she makes her displeasure known.

Usually by snatching them right off of his feet.

The first time she does this, he thinks it is a game, and chases her until he wrenches the shoes, victoriously, back from her hands. She is momentarily delighted that he wants to play, but disheartened when she sees that he doesn't think this is a game of Tag,_ a game she hopes to trick him into playing_, but a game of Keep Away, with the shoes as the prize. _She doesn't understand why shoes might be a prize._

He puts them right back on his feet, and again she has to snatch them away.

This time she doesn't play. She holds him right in his spot as she, ruthlessly now, shreds them and lets them flutter to the ground.

His face shows that he's hurt, and bewildered, and sad, _and_ _all sorts of terrible things that she never wanted him to feel_, but she can't help it, because she doesn't want him to have shoes, he doesn't need them,_ please, understand._

He doesn't speak for days after she destroys his first pair of shoes.

She tries, she tries hard to get him to speak again, but she can't make him, and, _please, please, she was always alone before Jack, don't let her be alone again, don't __ignore__ her_, when he finally does, he's quiet, and not himself, and not happy, clearly not happy, and she can't help but think that that is awfully unfair.

_She makes sacrifices for him sometimes. Maybe, just this once, he could make one for her?_

The next time he gets a pair of shoes, he gives them a long look, and takes a deep breath of air.

Jack tosses the shoes to the side, and they go back to their game.


	15. Maturity

**Hey guys! Have a wonderful day, and please enjoy this chapter. This is neoneco, live from a Squishy Couch.**

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She thinks she is older than him.

She is born first, _she is born everyday, so maybe he is born first?_, and even if that doesn't hold up, a caretaker is usually older than their charge, right?

Except she isn't a caretaker, really. She doesn't know what she is, but he is her playmate, and if they're both young enough to play, what does it really matter?

She starts to think on this one day after Thaddeus pulls Jack away from their game.

That man makes her irrationally furious, and she wanders off as she argues, _debates, these are logical thought processes she's using,_ with herself about how good of an idea it would be to hit Thaddeus with the milking bucket he is swinging as he talks.

(She decides that that would be an excellent idea because at the very least it would waste the milk in it and, in winter, milk is valuable. So valuable, that, say, if he was to lose it, it would make his wife,_ his scary wife, very_ cross with him)

She misses a good deal of the conversation the two have, except the end bit, except the part where Thaddeus says, 'You are far too old to still be playing games, my boy', pats Jack on the shoulders and saunters off, looking for all the world that he has just given sagely and wise advice.

Jack takes over where she leaves off at being angry, or in his case upset, _she's never actually seen Jack truly angry, she doubts she ever will_, at Thaddeus, and that is good because her mind has stopped responding.

_Jack is a child. And children will never be 'too old for games'._

_Right?_

And then she starts thinking. Quietly, in the background, she thinks, and she thinks, and she thinks.

Is she older than Jack? She doesn't quite know.

_She feels older._

Sometimes Jack feels older too, though. When he goes to visit his children, only to find that they've had their own children, he feels older. When he notices that a mountain's changed, that the valley has gotten smaller, that the animals have gotten stronger, or different, he feels older, he feels _much_ older.

She doesn't understand that. She knows things change, that's what life _does_. She doesn't understand why he gets so... so..._ melancholy. He feels melancholy._

She curses Thaddeus for making them think about their age, a number that she knows isn't healthy to dwell on.

And so, as in many other situations she doesn't like, she pulls him away and carries him home.


	16. Hope

**This is neoneco, live from the Comfy Chair. **

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She doesn't want to believe it, but when Jack points it out to her, she realizes that the Moon does look quite beautiful in the sky.

Humans look at it with wonder, even awe. At first she doesn't understands. It's something that Jack has to explain to her, and she is rather embarrassed it ended up that way because _she was supposed to be taking care of him, not the other way around, right?_

She didn't understand at first because the moon is just a blob, a grey thing hanging about in the sky. So what if the Man in The Moon is in it? It's still only a rock.

_A dull, lifeless rock._

"But sometimes," Jack says, and she worries that he's started talking to himself again, _because, sometimes, it's like he doesn't even notice she's there._ "Sometimes when it shines, and it glows, it's so... so _right_, hanging there. It's eerie and motionless. A beautiful thing sitting there that you'll never, ever touch."

He sounds sad, but she thinks she understands. When she remembers the days when she longed for her child, _her frost child_, she thinks she understands.

The Moon is hope. He isn't the Hope of New Beginnings. His hope is different. It's the hope that makes you reach out for things you _know_ you can never, _ever_, have, never achieve. The idea that you can have something, so ridiculous, so impossible, it'd be like reaching up and holding the moon in your hands.

She doesn't like the Moon anymore than she did before, but she thinks she understands.

Because if there's one thing children need, it's hope.


	17. Patronage

**Well. It's that time again. This is neoneco, live from a Comfy Chair.**

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Jack has siblings. But he doesn't, really.

Siblings are the spirits you're born with. The ones that share your nature, _not season, nature_, and your parentage.

She doesn't tell Jack about his siblings because they're not his siblings. The spirits of summer, autumn, and spring were never supposed to be without a fourth member, but that's how it ended up.

* * *

_She is waiting for her mother to finish with the last spirit, the winter one. _Her charge. Her duty.

_Her mother is starting the process on a boy she's been watching, who she watches die, even. The_ _boy_, or male, at least, they all look like boys to her_ , spends a good portion of his life experiencing wanderlust and longing for the time when he could skate on the ice or lounge in the snow._

_He dies in a cave, with hypothermia._

She wonders if all of their deaths would be so tragically ironic.

* * *

Her mother wants to create,_ birth_, all four of her Seasonal Sprites at the same time. She nearly does. She almost creates the winter spirit with all the others.

* * *

_~Excuse me.~_  
_"Ah! The Man in The Moon! And what brings you on this day, my friend?"_  
_~I was wondering...~_

* * *

Her mother is distracted by the Moon, the ever wavering, far off Moon, and she doesn't get her charge._ Her responsibility, what she is born for._

The Moon argues that since night is more prevalent than the day, his light shines off the snow more often, and if the Sun were to parent the spirit, it would melt. The Sun and her mother exchange glances, and can find no reason to refuse.

The Moon suggests he pick the candidate and, again, finding no real issue, her mother consents.

This is the very first thing to make her truly angry, and she doesn't get her boy for a _very long time_.  
In her anger, she pushes a cloud between the Moon and the Earth, shielding her from his light for days, and nights, and years. _Or at least, what feels like years. Time is so mercurial._

_And she knows she's not alone in her fury because one day the Sun stops shining on the Moon, leaving him visible for a mere fraction of the time before._

With less light, she feels a little warmer.

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**So. Those random Italics up there? Those are flashbacks from when she didn't have Jack as her companion. Sorry if you got confused.**


	18. Summer Sprite

**Okay, so don't flip out. I am introducing a couple of OCs. I tried to keep the obnoxiousness down, but feedback is appreciated. This is neoneco, live from a Comfy Chair.**

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When the Spirit of Summer is alive, Irina's name is Frovinski and she lives in a small village in Russia.

In her village it is always cold, and always dark, and, where she lives especially, always sad.

Her mommy and daddy don't really love each other. A girl down the block has a nice winter jacket than her. The boy across the street teases her about her short hair, the hair her daddy snipped off in a fit of 'practicality'.

These things don't matter in the summer.

In summer, her parents work a lot, they work a lot regardless of the season, but sometimes her daddy gets home sooner than her mommy in the summer and they go for walks. There's a very old tree she climbs that, while still cool to the touch, in the summer, it's warm and green enough to make her fingers sticky.

Sometimes her mommy gets off first and they go to the market, find foreign traders and, once again, futilely, try to plant bright summer flowers in the only stretch of earth on their land that isn't covered in snow.

Her mommy tells her about a flower that is taller than she is, with petals that are as yellow as the sun.

Irina loves summer, and that is the season in which she dies.

When she wakes up again, her previously pale hair is yellow like a sunflower.


	19. Failure

**I'm not sure how this happened, but it did. The last chapter was all nice and 'Hey Imma introduce 'dis character, yay, they have adventures!' and this one... isn't. Huh. This is neoneco, live from a Comfy Chair.**

* * *

There is a child being pulled, _yanked_, towards a snowy house, _A hut? What is it, exactly? She's not sure there's a word quite appropriate for the silly thing_, biting and kicking. He can't scream, his mouth is covered.

Well, this is hardly new. This is not the first time she's seen this, not even close, and it makes her feel a little angry, but mostly tired.

_Because there are no shadows to blame for this. No eyes glaring out. Only them. They do this, all on their own._

It is, however, the first time _Jack_ sees this, and he stops moving so suddenly, she almost drops him. _She doesn't. She promised she never would, so she doesn't._

"What?..." Jack asks, and if it's to her or himself, she doesn't know.

She _does_ know that there is a child being hurt in Jack's territory and he doesn't take kindly to others playing with his children.

Before she can stop him, _though even she doubts that she is really trying_, he's propelling himself towards the pair of humans. _She thinks that later he may need to be reminded that, for a moment, he was truly flying through his own power._

As expected, Jack passes right through the man. Unexpectedly, however, the man shivers, and he touches his chest, bewildered and clearly having felt a cold sense of foreboding. _The barest hint of cold, right on the base of his spine._

Despite this, the pair of them can do little to stop the man, since Jack can't touch him, and her hands are too big to do anything, lest she hurt the boy as well,_ which would hardly be any better._

All she can do is shriek and shake the windows.

When the man leaves, _Alone? Where's the child? Oh, dear_, he is back in _their_ domain.

They don't leave him with the soft breeze or the sculptures, or the wreaths they leave before, for others, whose deaths had been accidental.

Because this death wasn't accidental.


	20. Transition

**I am a terrible human being. Would it make you all happier if I were to say it was sleep deprivation keeping me? Welp, this is neoneco, live from the Comfy Chair.**

* * *

Jack is fickle and indecisive. He doesn't like sticking to just one thing.

He likes to try _everything_.

They do everything they can in the winter, their season, where they can get more and more imaginative, until Jack runs out of things to do and she runs out of distractions. _Not distractions, activities. What is she distracting him from?_

Eventually he gets tired of snow, _blasphemous, but true_, and drags her into Spring.

Ishmael, the Spirit of Spring, _and really just a sweet old man with too many seeds to plant,_ is a bit perplexed as to what they're doing, and Groundhog, _the Fun Police_, is "very disappointed in them" for wandering around, but it's all fine because Jack is happy again.

As the one to announce when seasons are ending, Groundhog is the only spirit with the authority to order the Spirits of the Seasons, besides, maybe, her siblings. _Except for Jack, who is the only spirit that gets bossed around solely by him. She's always reluctant to use her bossing privileges._

Ishmael requests, politely, and with far too much patience for their shenanigans, that they try not to freeze his seedlings or rip out plants if they insist on rampaging through his garden.

They do try very hard to be careful with Ishmael's plants, but they're hardly disciplined, and when a few trees take a bit too long to bloom, they are rightfully sheepish, but no words are exchanged.

And her mother watches the slow, smooth transition from Winter to Spring with a tiny smile on her face.


	21. Responsibilities

**This is neoneco, live from The Comfy Chair.**

* * *

One day, a winter day, while they are playing in the snow, her mother arrives at their snow fort and orders her to stop shirking her duties.

_She has duties? When has she ever had duties?_

"You have always had responsibilities," her mother says. "You've just been ignoring them, in favor of Jack."

Jack gives her a concerned look. She knows he doesn't want her to get in trouble for him, and she touches his hair, pushing him back towards his snow on the ground.

_What are these responsibilities of hers, then?_

"What you've always done. Spreading the snow out, triggering avalanches, coercing the storms into the right areas." her mother explains, both sweetly and with a no nonsense voice. _Which is unfortunate, since she can never go very long without, at least, a little nonsense._

She is reluctant to leave Jack while she herds storms, but her mother waves her off, and she flies out, for the first time in _years_, without him.

She knows that Jack waves until long after he can't see her presence in the trees.

* * *

When she sees them again, they are both on the ground, and Jack is speaking softly to her mother, leaning into her touch. _Softly? Jack is never soft..._

When he sees her, Jack launches himself away from her mother and straight at her. She is so stunned, she nearly dematerializes and passes through him.

_He doesn't need more people to be passing right through him._

"I don't... I mean... Boogeyman..." he murmurs into her chest. "I was afraid you wouldn't come back..."

She gives her mother a _look_ and gets one in return that she takes to mean, 'How was I to know he was just going to show up?'

_Her mother is far too soft on that man, father or not._

She touches Jack and pulls him into the air, and she carries him home again.

_She promises, to him and herself, to never leave again._

* * *

**My personal headcannon for this chapter is that 'The Boogeyman' sees that his ****_beautiful_**** daughter is all alone and on the ground and happens to be looking after a young spirit, and he just can't resist the temptation of riling the two of them up. **


	22. Privileges

**You know, I haven't actually written anything for ****_days_****? It's pretty ridiculous, this procrastination. **

**Oh well. I suppose I'll get on it.**

**This is neoneco, live from The Comfy Chair.**

* * *

The next time she goes storm herding, she takes Jack with her.

When he understands that the trip is for work,_ oh, how she _loathes _that word_, Jack looses much of his enthusiasm. She takes her with him anyway.

The energy he displaced on the travel to the storms, however, reappears when he sees, _and he really sees them this time, pays them more than the usual periphery glance,_ the things she is supposed to be herding.

They crackle with underutilized energy and prance around each other, snarling and booming.

They are doing something Jack can recognize.

They are playing.

Jack leaps into the fray, _they're supposed to be working, aren't they, Jack?_, and initiates a new game of tag with the rambunctious spirits.

As the day passes, she diligently picks them away from their game and sends them on their way, until there is only one left in the sky, still playing.

"Can It stay?" Jack asks, a guileless smile on his face.

She_ lives_ for his smiles.

She supposes that they can play for a while before they get back to work.

Even after the storm's body disperses and condenses back to the earth, she carries It's spirit with her on the way home, until It can get a new one.

Her list of responsibilities is ever growing, it seems.

* * *

**I view the storms as a mix of hyper five year olds and puppies. Sort of like Morph (The pink shape shifting blob? No one?) from the movie Treasure Planet.**


	23. Omission

**Hello. This is neoneco, live from The Comfy Chair.**

* * *

He doesn't remember the significance of the lake, or the town quickly growing, _compared to the earlier times_, next to it.

He doesn't remember why he's drawn to it, or why, when he frosts the water, he makes sure it's thick enough to not break if a boulder was dropped on it.

_She knows. He asked her to check. It didn't break._

But she remembers, and sometimes it's like he's on the verge of remembering himself. Sometimes he looks at one of his children and _stares_ at the strange familiar features like a drowning man clings to air.

He doesn't like to swim. He doesn't like the dark._ Which is rather unfortunate since that's all winter ever is._

She knows why, and he doesn't.

She ponders telling him, but decides, ultimately, it would only bring him hurt. His sister is already dead and gone. It would make him sad.

_She doesn't like it when he's sad._

She keeps his death to herself.


	24. Storytime

**Hey, so I might be on a bit of a hiatus for at least a week, but I've got the chapters written and I'll make it up to you, I'm just stressing over a test. When I get back, though, you'll get three shiny new chapters! So it could be worse!**

**This is neoneco, live from The Comfy Chair.**

* * *

Their storm wanders as It likes. It follows them about, It prances ahead of them, and occasionally, It diverges from their path and doesn't return for several weeks.

_It is not a tame snowstorm, after all. Sometimes all It can do is rage. She and Jack let it come back in Its own time._

But no matter what, It always comes back.

Sometimes other ones follow It home, and Jack instigates grand games of Keep Away and Tag. Sometimes Jack likes to tell them things, little stories, and the storms pay attention as long as their energy can bear to sit still before they shoot off again.

She likes to think of them as children, the very young kind, who can't help being boisterous and mischievous. Jack does too, she can tell.

Even with Irina, it's been several years since he was able to play the role of big brother.

She shushes the storms and listens to Jack's retelling of a grand adventure they had. _Which is really just a mishap they had with the spirit of autumn, when they freeze all the paints for his pine trees. Sometimes she laughs, because the paint still hasn't thawed._

The storms boom in all the right places and she can't help but smile.


	25. The Bird Lady

**I lied. I can't quit the internet. It's an addiction. I lied, and I'm a lying liar who lies, and I apologize. **

**I'm ****_definitely_**** going to fail this test but ~LALALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THIS FANFICTION LALALALA~**

**This is neoneco, live from An Uncomfortable Desk Chair. (Apparently there is no comfort allowed during 'study time'.)**

* * *

There is a twittering Bird Lady that comes out during night and takes teeth from children.

She knows that the Lady is getting_ exhausted_ because she insists on getting _every_ tooth from _every_ child, and at first she laughs.

She knows it is mean, but she laughs, because she thinks it is foolish of the humming Lady to go out every night, _non-stop, due to time zones_, and attempt to grab every tooth.

She laughs, but even so, she never tries to get in the Bird Lady's way, _The Moon wouldn't stand for it, and the Lady is one of his people,_ and the Lady already looks so tired, why make it harder for her?

The Lady is harried and harassed and_ pulling at the seams_ until one day, _night_, she doesn't show up at all.

In her place are smaller, twittering Bird Ladies._ More Bird than Lady, really._

The Birds swoop from place to place, scooping up teeth, _they use their whole bodies to lift them; very small birds,_ and carry them back to the first Lady.

She wants to follow, to see where the Bird Lady has roosted, but it is in a place where the cold never touches, and she doesn't feel comfortable going to other seasons. _Her home is winter. It will always be winter._

Jack is slightly more inclined to run amok than she, and he pulls her on, what he is sure will be, an adventure.

The Birds think he is charming and they giggle at the sight of his teeth.

Their mother is very busy, they say. Too busy, they say.

Jack is disappointed, and she understands the Lady is busy, but, really, she is disappointed too.

She wants to see the Bird Lady one more time.

Because, intentional or not, the Bird Lady is there when she is alone, when she doesn't have her playmate.

The Lady is ever present, and silly, and happy, and there for her to laugh at, even if it sometimes is mean laughter. The Lady makes her happy.

_That's a memory she'll keep for a long, long time._

* * *

**Update: Dear, sweet, reviewer Nicki K. I have answered your questions. It's on my profile, at the very bottom, under all the 'Copy and Paste' crap. Enjoy. **


	26. Different

**Hello. This is neoneco, live from The Comfy Chair.**

* * *

Sometimes she thinks Jack sees her. Sometimes she thinks he hears her when she whispers or when she shrieks or when she makes any noise at all, really.

Other times she is as invisible to him as he is to his children.

That doesn't hurt as much as it would if him if she and Jack's positions are swapped.

_Because she isn't human and, despite his age and behavior, Jack very much __is__._

She doesn't want to think it, but she does, and she wonders if the Moon has anything to do with why Jack is how Jack is.

The other Spirits of Seasons don't want believers. The other Spirits of Seasons can hear her siblings.

Except Jack isn't_ quite_ the Spirit of Winter. _He is, but he's also something else, something not... Not what he should be._

It confuses her when Jack goes out of his way to help children, or plays with them gently, or when, _each and every time_, his face falls when they walk past, _through_, him.

She doesn't understand. _She doesn't understand._

She wants to understand, and she knows that before Jack, she doesn't care. But now, with him, she does, and she thinks that he is making her into something that she shouldn't be either.

And that's okay.

* * *

**Welp, I took my test and I definitely failed it. Oh well. **

**My profile has some responses to reviews and questions, so if you have any, ask them, and I'll try to get back to you if I can't send you a PM.** **(I'm looking at you Nicki.)**

**Thanks for being so great, guys. Have a lovely day.**


	27. Calm Before The Storm

**This is neoneco, live from The Comfy Chair.**

* * *

The tiny Birds bring Jack flowers, _she is amused when she hears their song because the flowers are for Jack's nest,_ and Jack takes them with smiles and a happiness that is all too real. He tries to dig a hole to bury them near his lake.

_Because the lake is home, and home is always safe._

She tells him to step aside, and she withers away the ground, deepening the whole he is spending so much time digging in the frozen earth. _It is taking too long for such a simple task, that's all._

The Birds watch him, all the while, sighing and giggling. It reminds her of the storms, their silliness, and she feels something for them that is near to what she feels for them and her boy. _She likes it when they smile._

When the Birds, still giggling and gossiping, flutter away, she wants to keep one, just one, _to make the little thing hers, theirs,_ though she knows that they never, ever will be. They are always, and will always be, the Bird Lady's. So she pushes them back to their mother, to their home. _Away to safety._

Jack waves goodbye and laughs until they are out of sight. His smile lingers, though his face is curiously blank when he turns to her and his voice is lacking exuberance.

"Take me home."

The Moon is still hanging in the sky, watching.

She pulls the two of them out of sight.

* * *

**You know what would be evil? If I just stopped the series here.**

**I won't, but I bet you're all getting a chill up your spine.**


	28. Wrong, Wrong, Wrong

**This is neoneco, live from the Comfy Chair. I'm so so sorry.**

* * *

She doesn't want this. She doesn't want this, and if Jack would get back in his right mind, he wouldn't want this either.

_But Jack isn't in his right mind, he's in his wrong mind, and he has been for a while. A __long__ while._

The storm that follows them has no stipulations and enjoys the chaos It's bringing with Its friend. _He's not Its friend. He's not anyone's friend._

Right-Minded-Jack wouldn't want this. But Wrong-Minded-Jack does.

He lashes out, crackling, diving, and, worst of all, laughing. An empty, hollow laugh that echoes like a sob in the trees he's tearing down. In the cold, vacant streets he's coating with treacherous ice and spikes and traps.

_He is being cruel._

She doesn't know what to do.

_Mother, Father, she doesn't know what to do. What should she do? This isn't right, this isn't right, __thisisn'tright__._

Her mother can't hear her,_ isn't listening_, over Jack's_ vacant_ laugh and her father is blocked by the storm, _that dirty little __traitor_.

She is on her own.

She had done this when she is younger. She does it, and revels in it, she remembers.

_This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong, wrong wrong..._

Why is it wrong? She does it. Why can't Jack do it?

_But Jack isn't like her. Jack is __human__._

Itty pieces of his humanity, _himself_, slip away, and in her hopelessness, all she can do is shriek and flail and cry.

Jack grins.

* * *

**I just... I don't even know. I'm sorry. This is just... awfully unhappy, I suppose. **


	29. Shrill Laughter

**I'm running out of back up chapters. I'll have to start actually writing soon. :(**

**This is neoneco, live from The Comfy Chair.**

* * *

She makes herself forget about Jack's smile. About his laugh. About how the way his eyes crinkle and shine.

He doesn't smile now. Now his smile is a baring of teeth, his laugh a cackle and his eyes don't shine, they glint.

_Nature isn't kind_, she thinks and although it's a fact, without context it means nothing because, while nature isn't kind,_ nor is nature always cruel._

Jack is. Jack isn't kind anymore. His well of patience and love has gone dry, leaving only neglect, and aggravation, and _hurt._

_He is __hurting__, and now his children are too._

She is a Nature spirit. She isn't kind.

But still, she finds herself herding lost children home, chasing animals off, and directing the snow away from the towns. _All things __Jack__ does before he... _

Jack used to be kind, but he now he isn't.

So she is until he can be.

* * *

**So I updated my profile again. It has some more headcannons, if anyone's interested.  
**


	30. Exhaustion (And A Half-A-Chapter)

**I am so sorry. I honestly barely remember I was supposed to update today. Can I claim Finals?**

**This is neoneco, live from The Comfy Chair.**

* * *

There is quiet.

_Blessed, blessed quiet._

His storm, _not her storm, really._ _She sees now that It never really was_, pauses in Its play. It glances down to where her boy, _not her boy, that's not her boy, not him, he's wrong, wrong, wrong, _is perching in a tree.

It booms as he tumbles out of it, towards the frigid dirt.

She considers letting him make impact, but in the end, she catches him.

_She remembers her promise. He doesn't touch the too-warm-ground._

He is tired, and quiet, and his eyes are closed.

He isn't sleeping, he never sleeps. His fingers are clenched rigidly on his staff and his bones are shaking.

No, just his shoulders. His shoulders are shaking.

_She's terrible with crying children, even when the child's hers._

She coos at Jack and lifts him up, thankfully muffling his harsh coughing and crying. His storm, subdued and out of energy Itself, follows her as she carries him back to his lake.

_Because the lake is home, and home is always safe._

* * *

**As an apology, have a Not-Quite-A-Full-Chapter-Bonus.**

Sometime later, as Jack rests, his storm approaches her to entice her into a game, and is hurt when she brushes It off.

It doesn't understand why.

_~But I did as he asked.~_ it protests. _~I gave him what he wanted, we all did!~_

_They - she and the storm - just want Jack to be happy._

She is unsettled that, somehow, she knows that what Jack wants doesn't always correspond with what can make him happy.

She pulls the storm close an they watch over Jack together.

_They'll just have to do better this time._


	31. Impressions

**Hello. Here is the new chapter. This is neoneco, live from A Reasonably Comfortable Sofa. (I had to venture out of my room. The horror!)**

* * *

His memories are hazy for a while. Hers aren't.

She can recall with perfect clarity the first time Jack met E. Aster Bunnymund. _She wonders what the 'E.' stands for..._

He is South America, hiding eggs, and racing against the clock when Jack and his storm confront him.

Jack cackles and runs, and jumps, and, with an elaborate wave, buries Bunnymund, and his eggs, in snow so deep, it seems as if an avalanche has been triggered over them.

All Jack can remember from that time, _she mentally categorizes those years, melodramatically, as 'The Dark Ages'_, are waves of ice and sleet and screaming.

Jack doesn't remember his meeting with The Bunny, only that he did, and that it was while he was stirring up mischief.

But The Bunny does.

_And Jack left quite an impression._


	32. What's In A Name

**If you hadn't noticed by now, the narrative is a bit... non-linear? Like, I don't even really know. So this chapter is taking place sometime after the movie.**

**This is neoneco, live from The Comfy Chair.**

* * *

She doesn't bother to remember their names.

She's hears them. She's hears their names spoken plenty of times. She's hears the words as they pass through the air, meaningless and empty and _she can't make herself care._

Their names don't resonate.

Because what is a name?_ It's nothing, really. Just a label. A way of differentiating_.

They are forever immortalized as The Twittering Bird Lady, The Star Man (Because He Certainly Isn't Of Earth, No Matter The Sand), The Bunny, _she has given up on learning the secret of the 'E.'_, and The Winter Thief.

She knows that Jack loves them and they make him happy, and they'll never ever hear her so why should she bother to label them when the only one to hear is herself?

But more than that, she knows who they_ are._

Jack is Jack. But more than that, he's what make children brave when they look down an impossibly treacherous slope of ice and snow. He's what whispers, "It'll be alright, and here's how..." He's light-hearted and chipper, and occasionally, he's also bone-deep weary and _afraid_ and _lonely_.

The name Jack can't possibly cover it, can't _possibly_ even come _near_ the complexity and fluidity and _chaos_ that is Jack Frost.

She doesn't remember the other Guardians names because it doesn't matter, because they are complex and unique and _them._

_But she remembers how much it hurts him, those brief, brief few seconds, when he is alone in his lake, and disoriented, and when all he has of himself is his name._

She buries the name, the syllables, 'Jack Frost' somewhere deep and close and dear, _dear_, to her, so she'll never have any opportunity to forget it.

* * *

**So Jack never really gets better. Also, I have thrown out absolutely any and all semblance of a timeline. Good luck. **


	33. Resting

**This is neoneco, live from a Reasonably Comfortably Sofa. (My cat fell asleep in The Comfy Chair.)**

* * *

For a while, Jack is too weak to lift himself out of his snow bank. He treats his arms like lead, and his staff is creaking with the strain he's exerting on it, unintentionally wearing out his strength on trying to keep the staff still and solid beneath him.

She wishes he would just _stop_, just _rest_, but he insists on, quite literally, dragging himself up and overseeing the children who come to the lake to play on the ice.

Because he is their protector, and he has a lot of time to make up for.

But then, one chill day, he gets a small, easily overlooked, teeny tiny, insignificant smile on his face. The children below him and laughing and chasing each other, and she's seen this game enough to know that eventually they will wear themselves out and go back inside, where it's warm, and for once she doesn't care that the children are going to leave him because _he's smiling for the first time since... That... happened._

And when the children inevitably _do_ go back inside, Jack still has that smile on his face. He swings his staff as he walks and his feet are barely dragging in the snow.

"I think... I think I can do this," he says, pausing in his trek back to his mound of snow. His forehead creases his breath hitches softly and quietly.

"Thank you," he says.

She swears he is looking right at her.


	34. Triggers

**Hello, this is neoneco, live from The Comfy Chair. **

**I've just finished the book ****Good Omens**** by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, and it's an A+ book. In case you were interested.**

* * *

She has him in her hands, swinging him leisurely about, when he suddenly sags, body swaying, before thrashing wildly, all but launching himself out of the air towards the ground.

_What? No! What is happening?!_

She sets him down and his flailing limbs find purchase in the solid ground, jerking and clawing and rolling and shouting.

"I'm sorry!" He moans, and she can see a female deer, dead, it's fawn's desperate keening ringing loudly in the trees and the mother's blood staining the crisp snow red.

_Oh._

The fawn is huddled next to the doe, the mother's body heat _not quite_ yet diminished. The smell of her blood is heavy in the air.

"I didn't mean for this to happen, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." And she isn't really sure what happened here, _though she can hear a gunshot echoing past an expanse of trees,_ she _does _know that whatever it is, the animals are upsetting Jack.

The fawn cries louder and Jack chokes on his breath.

She silences it, re-arranges the snow until they are perfectly hidden under a heaping accusatory pile, and, lightning fast, _the storms would be proud_, she slams her hand down on Jack's head, smacking him into the hard earth.

Everything is silent.

He wakes up later, in a snow drift, confused and upset and she's there for him when he does.

_Shh, shh. It's alright._

_It was only a dream._

* * *

She quite forgets that before his 'dream', Jack has never so much as slept.


	35. Leave Your Boots In The Snow

**I feel like this chapter would be better suited to sometime that was not mid-June, but oh well. This is neoneco, live from The Comfy Chair.**

* * *

He goes by the name Saint Nicholas.

The children whisper to each other, "He puts coins in your shoes, if you're good," and the adults scoff but quietly hold onto the hope that someone, _anyone_, would be so generous as to give their family any of the much valued metal.

Faith in him grows as coins find their way into children's boots, and every winter, adults have taken to setting out their shoes as well.

He's been around for a while, but not as long as the Twittering Lady, who is the youngest spirit she knows, disregarding Jack. _Though, she doesn't exactly go out of her way to meet new ones, either._

She doesn't know who's older, him or Jack, because for the longest time there is nothing BUT Jack for her to see.

Her sweet boy, so innocent. _He's not innocent, but she can't help but pretend._

The few believers he has are have long since detracted their faith and applied it to St. Nicholas.  
_He's a thief. He's a dirty thief, and he stole winter from them._

Jack is worried about his children; he doesn't understand why they would forsake an entire season of mischief and shenanigans with him for a _single morning _of joy.

She can see it in his face, when he looks at them. Something that says, 'How has this happened? I thought we were happy.'

And then, suddenly, one year, instead of the confusion and ache in his eyes, there is determination.

"Wind, take me to the North Pole."

She is confused, and maybe he senses it, because he grins roguishly and speaks again.

"Well, his believers have been popping up like dandelions, right? I think I'd like to know how."

She barely remembers to fetch the storm before leaving.

It would be very cross if It were to miss this adventure.


	36. Special

**Wow, I almost didn't make the cut. Sorry guys. Here you go. **

**This is neoneco, live from a Reasonably Comfortable Sofa. (I was forced out of my room. Apparently people need to eat to live. Who knew?)**

* * *

If Jack wasn't already preoccupied with being the Spirit of Winter, she thinks that he would have found a life calling in testing the North Pole's security ... vulnerabilities.

As it is, they start with the windows.

Jack is loathe to break them to get in, _as clean, clear canvases are often hard to come by,_ but sometimes sacrifices must be made.

The Yetis are quick and they notice the draft immediately. He doesn't get far past the window pane before he is thrown out of that same window again.

Next, they try to get in through the stable. This is a mistake. The reindeer are less sunshine and magic, _as the children would have him believe, _and more aggression and wild-animal.

The storm, during their escapades, hovers anxiously around them, and, to It's despair, finds that the most violent things it can do is make the snowflakes around them slightly larger than usual.

They target every weakness. The elves, the food supplies, the chimney, _oh, and what a mistake that was, Jack feels too warm for days,_ they even try to spread Jack out into the snow and get him in through the crevices in the doorways. _That is very uncomfortable, she'd rather they didn't ever try that again, please._

And then one day, _that day, of course,_ the Big Man himself comes out at last. The Thief.

He's rushed, but amiable, and he nods politely at Jack, yet makes no move to come near, urging his reindeer faster.

"Ah, hello! Bunny said you were mischief-maker, and here you are, making mischief!"

_This would mean more to Jack if he knew who the 'Bunny' being referred to is._

As it is, all Jack says in return is, "Huh?"

The Thief gives him a look. He crooks an eyebrow up at Jack and she supposes it means something, because now Jack looks quite embarrassed.

"I just- I just wanted to ask you if- I mean, why, why you have so many kids, just, _believing. How_?" Jack doesn't quite know what to say, and his arms are gesturing to something, _there's nothing there, she doesn't understand. Is it just one of those things?_, and The Thief looks very kind.

"Jack. Jack Frost," he says, and Jack is very startled,_ so is she, really_, because he hadn't told the man his name yet. "My name is North. Nicholas St. North."

"I am a Guardian."

The words don't mean much to Jack, he can't feel the emphasis on the word 'Guardian', but she can, and it makes her uncomfortable.

Those are _his _people.

Jack wants to talk more, and he does, quite a bit, but today is North's most important day of the year. He smiles, his belly shakes with happy laughter, and he waves goodbye.

Jack smiles back and his eyes dull because, from what he can tell, North has believers because he is chosen, because he is special, and Jack - Jack _isn't._

_He doesn't think he's important._

The storm shakes and finally, finally, It starts hailing and freezing the things below it, and Jack halfheartedly tries to calm it down.

"It's okay. He's... He's right. It's fine."

They go home, and they pull pranks, and they don't go to the North Pole again for many years.


	37. Reflective Properties of Snow

**Well, here we go. This is neoneco, live from The Kitchen Table.**

* * *

Jack likes the days more than he likes the nights.

She likes to think it is the Sun that endears daytime to him. Or that maybe it's the children that come out sometimes and play until they're too cold to function. Maybe it's the way the snow glistens in the light.

She likes to think that.

_But, really, deep down, she thinks it's just the lack of the Moon._

Sometimes, no matter if it's day time, the Moon is visible in the sky, encroaching on the Sun's territory. The Man in the Moon's light is dim, during the day, and hardly noticable, unless you are Jack.

_Jack always notices the Moon._

Sometimes, instead of waiting for the night, they chase the Sun all the way around the earth until they are back at their starting position, and then they do it all over again.

And that's alright. She likes the Sun. She likes the light and the shining and the laughter in Jack's voice when he sees children.

Because when she's in the dark...

_She isn't very nice._

_Nothing's ever nice in the dark._

* * *

Gold eyes glow out of shadows. _The eyes are everywhere, in every shadow._

The uncertainty she feels regarding their manifestation makes her all the more nervous.

She wants to be back with the Sun.


	38. End Of An Era

**So I wanted to play around with the point of view, since we have largely been in the Wind's point of view (hearing her thoughts and knowing her feelings, and such). I hope it isn't too terrible.**

**This is neoneco, live from The Comfy Chair.**

* * *

When Thaddeus dies, it is summer time, and the days are hot and long.

Irina follows Jack to the grave site, sitting quietly, for once, and looking like she doesn't know whether or not to be upset.

Jack's face is impassive, and he carries himself slowly when he walks to the headstone.

He lays his hand on it and sighs. He tells himself that he won't cry.

Irina steps closer to him and takes his hand. It's intensely warm, and it makes him uncomfortable, but it's nice.

"I'm sorry, Jack," she says.

He looks at his friend, and he smiles at her.

"Yeah, me too," he says.

Behind them, the air rustles in the trees.


	39. Absence of Noise

**And once again, my friends, I have managed to make something depressing. This is neoneco, live from A Freezing Attic. (Relatives. Blegh.)**

* * *

She's not sure when they first started talking. _Well, she says talking..._

The sky is dark, and the air is be crisp, and, softly glowing in the sky, he'd send his sand out to the humans sleeping below.

The sand slides through crevices in the doors, slowly and patiently. When it touches the humans', mostly children's, faces, they sigh blissfully in their sleep and the sand dances above them.

He's been around for a long, long time. Longer than her, maybe.

Jack likes to sit with the Star Man during the night. They don't talk. If Jack does speak, he speaks softly, and he tries not to impose on the Star Man's silence.

Sometimes Jack needs the quiet, to sit and hear his own thoughts, and he seeks out the Star Man for his tranquil companionship.

When everything's peaceful, the Star Man waits until Jack looks away, and he sends his sand into Jack's face.

Jack doesn't dream._ Not quite, anyway._

His eyes glaze and his body relaxes, but his hands remain clenched around his staff, while above him, shining _dirt, really, _plots out his dream.

She breathes softly, sadly, when she sees that his dream involves him, _the figure she presumes to represent him,_ sitting down at a table, and holding hands with the others around him.

He used to do this when he was alive, she thinks. He called it praying.

He used to do it before he ate, with his family.

_He doesn't pray anymore._

_And he doesn't have a family._

* * *

**I think I need a hiatus to get some things settled. I will be back, on the 30th, so really I'll only be missing one update, which will be made up for. I need to rehash some ideas. Be back soon. Thank you for your support.**


	40. A Family Outing

**Well, this was actually quite hard to write. The hiatus didn't exactly help my block, and trying to write winter stuff, in a desert state, ****_in the summer? _****Basically impossible.**

**But here I am, barely making it. This is neoneco, life from The Comfy Chair. Enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

"Gently, _gently_..." Jack says, stressing the words. Her energy is tightly controlled, and she knows that if she slips, the whole exercise will be wasted.

The Sun is shining, indulgent, and the storms are far off and curious looking, but calm.

Jack is trying to spread the snow evenly, make it soft. The kids like this hill, and it almost never snows on the place they want it to.

She directs the snow very slowly. Her natural urge is to slam her hands down until the snow is in the air, going everywhere.

She represses it.

_But it is tempting._

It's worth it when Jack says, "No, no, stop! That's perfect!" His smile is bright, and he rushes off before she can offer to carry him.

She finds him slipping inside a house, and waits a minute or so before checking the windows.

He's watching a little girl pulling on her jacket, while her father tied her snow boots. The father's eyes are bright, and happy as he picked up his daughter, and she knew that he had been the recipient of Jack's particular brand of magic.

"George! Your sister and I are going sledding! You can still come!" he calls, taking the girl's jacket off her and putting in back on in the right direction this time.

A boy, older than the little girl, walks into the hall, and leans on the door frame.

"Dad, it's too cold out. Can't I just please stay here? I'm sure you two will have fun."

The father nods tiredly, like he expected that answer, but felt obligated to ask anyway. He turns to the girl, lifts her up, and leaves the room.

Jack's eyes have turned to the boy, and a few moments later, George yells, "Wait!"

He catches up to them on the drive way, Jack moving deftly out the door behind him.

"I can't let you and Sarah have all the fun, can I?"

The girl, Sarah, giggles and Jack laughs happily with her.

She watches her boy and the family enjoy the day, and when the children are tired, she and Jack walk them back to their house, and watch through the window as the family relaxes slowly into their beds.

It was a good day.


	41. New Clothes

**Wow, I am so sorry, guys. Today was a really trying day. Here's a chapter.**

**This is neoneco, live from The Kitchen Table.**

* * *

"Blue is a good color," Jack says, tugging on the string near his neck. She's vaguely puzzled as to the purpose of the string but, _as always, _she doubts she'll be getting an explanation.

The frost is already creeping along his arms and reaching out from the neck hole in the hooded sweater. It's thin and faded, _and fairly unhygienic, he did find it in a 'charity' bag, _but as the frost adjusts to it's new host, the hoodie's colors deepen, and it becomes more crisp.

_Just a side effect of Jack's magic seeping it, she supposes._

"And look! It even has pockets! Man, think of all the stuff I could put in there!"

_Jack only has his staff, which would definitely not fit in that pocket. _

"Next time one of the Baby Teeth give me flowers, I'll have a place to put them!"

_Oh. Those things. She had thought they had buried all of them._

Jack hoists his old cloak up on the end of his staff. Without his magic, it quickly degrades, the thread unraveling and the leather wearing down to near nothing.

"I guess it's time to part ways with this old thing, huh?"

_Yes, Jack. She's sorry, Jack. _

Jack doesn't move for a moment but to pull the cloak slightly closer.

He sighs.

The cloak flutters off his staff and, before it even touches the ground, it crumbles, and the dust spreads on the icy sidewalk. It blends in well with the dark slush of dirty snow.

_Let it go._


	42. Protection

**I'm sorry. I'm not sure I can do this fic anymore. I'm running out of things. That's partially why this is so tremendously late.**

**This is neoneco, live from The Comfy Chair.**

* * *

There is a family of bears in a cave near a small village where a little boy lives. The boy's name is Erin.

He goes out to play a game of hide 'n' seek. He's sure he'll win, he even climbs a tree.

That turns out to be a problem.

It's much too cold out to cling to the high branches. The wind strips any warmth he might have, and the cold braches do the rest.

He thinks if he climbs down he can make it to the rocks before the others see him. In fact, he's sure he can make it.

Jack watches, concerned, as Erin hugs tighter to the tree and lowers himself down.

"Um, kid? What're you doing?"

Erin gets to the bottom of the tree and pauses before sprinting to an outcropping of rocks.

On the other side of that outcropping is a hibernating bear.

_Oh, this can't be any good._

"Kid, seriously, uh... Get away from this spot," Jack says. His voice is low, and he's speaking as quietly as he can. Despite that, he is quite obviously panicked.

There's a snuffling noise behind them, the boy and Jack, and the two of them freeze. Jack looks behind him slowly, to see the bear is still sleeping.

Erin also looks. He isn't as quiet.

* * *

"Th- There was a b-bear..." Erin says. His mother soothes his hair.

"It's alright now, sweetie," she says.

Jack watches from outside. He can't hear what they're saying, but the boy is smiling uncertainly and his mother is pulling him close.

Jack smiles and she's glad they managed to protect the boy.

_Jack is good at protecting._


	43. Belief

**Well, this is the end. It's been fun. This is neoneco, live from the Comfy Chair.**

* * *

She is of the personal opinion that he doesn't need any believers.

_He's a nature spirit, so why?_

She doesn't think he needs believers. She knows he doesn't need believers. But he wants them.

He does. He really does. He wants them, and the moment he gets one, she can almost see why.

_The boy makes him happy._

Their games in the sky make him nimble and quick, but even so, she doesn't expect him to be so startled, enthusiastic, when he realizes the boy can see him.

He is able to float, always. Not fly, exactly. Not like her. But he can float.

Like a snowflake.

He does that, flips and shouts and laughs, and even looks like he wants to cry, when his first child, not his first believer, perhaps, but his first _child_ finally, _finally_, believes in him.

She can hear something whisper, sounding like her mother, but crueler, without the kind edge. It whispers that nature doesn't need believers, that this is _wrong_, and that he's going to be terribly upset when the boy dies, _and humans always, always die_, and wouldn't it be kinder to stop it now?

The thought makes her uncomfortable because it is the truth, but the truth can be twisted and mangled, until it's nothing like the truth at all, even if it is. This is one of those truths, the dark truths, the truths that aren't and she shivers as she watches because she knows, _she knows_, it really would be kinder to stop this belief where it is.

She doesn't want him to be hurt. He's been hurt so much. _Too much. Any hurt at all is too much, and he's been hurt much more than that._

But the boy makes him happy.

She wonders if a little momentary happiness is worth the heart break later, and the regret she'll feel for letting this moment proceed.

She comes to a decision.

_What is life if not momentary happiness?_

_Damn the consequences._

* * *

The Boogeyman scowls as his black sand slides to the ground as she rises to the sky once again.  
If he's aware of her or not, Frost, it seems, has always had a Guardian.


End file.
